


Vantage Point

by murdur



Category: Lizzie Bennet Diaries
Genre: Cunnilingus, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-14
Updated: 2013-04-14
Packaged: 2017-12-08 11:08:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/760658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/murdur/pseuds/murdur
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lizzie is certain she is not a fan of cunnilingus, until she experiences it from a new vantage point</p>
            </blockquote>





	Vantage Point

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a prompt on the [Oral Sex Fanfest](http://peripeteia.dreamwidth.org/3640.html). Check it out!

Lizzie knows what she wants, knows what she likes. 

Lizzie likes to be in control. Lizzie likes to be right. 

And she is absolutely sure that she has not and will never enjoy someone going down on her. She finds the idea somewhat horrifying; embarrassing.

She doesn't like the thought of being so open to someone, completely bare to them in every sense of the word. There have been a few boys in her past who have tried to convince her of the wonder of it. She had allowed it for a bit. Tried to relax as they slid down her body until their eyes were at her center, large hands and arms wrapped around her thighs, pinning her to the bed and keeping her held open. Then an overwhelming sense of panic would consumed her, make her feel trapped, vulnerable, and much too weak and she would make them stop.

Lizzie likes power. She has seen the power her own mouth can wield. She’s seen William Darcy, a man of status and importance, a man with the most infuriating sense of self-control, be metaphorically brought to his knees, all because she is literally on her knees before him. Lizzie has heard his incoherent gasps, watched his face contort, and felt his hips cant unbidden into her mouth. She has seen the giant fall before her and she revels in it.

Lizzie wants not to be on the other side of the battle lines. She does not want to let go of her control.

She will not surrender.

Luckily for her, Darcy seems more than willing to let her lead. She is often the one to initiate, the one to pin him to the door as soon as he shuts it behind his broad back, lined in a suit and wearing one of his fucking ties. She is the one to lead him by said tie into the bedroom where she pushes him down onto the soft mattress and attacks, attacks, attacks.

It is much the same when Darcy arrives at her modest apartment in downtown San Francisco after a week-long business trip in Atlanta. He doesn't even stop at his own place, has a car take him straight from the airport to her doorstep, all because she asked him to. 

She can practically feel the need rolling off of his body as soon as he enters the room. She does not deny him. His craving for her and her touch match her own lust. 

Darcy barely has time to murmur a greeting before Lizzie has captured his mouth in a long kiss, her fingers tracing along the side of his face, a gentle touch to his jaw. He sighs into the kiss and buries one hand into the fall of her red hair, while the other wraps around her waist, holding her to him. 

“I missed you,” she whispers wrapping her arms firmly around his neck before she jumps up. Darcy catches her with ease, holding onto her thighs as she curls her legs around his waist. She presses as close as she can, kissing him fiercely. 

“I missed you as well,” he pants out. Lizzie presses kisses along his jaw, exhaling a low hum in reply. The closeness sends a shiver down his neck, the noise in his ear and the smell of her, the smell of her hair everywhere. She kisses him there, below the ear.

He whispers her name before setting his lips to her throat, and she feels the low gravel of his voice sink right through her. Her fingers fumble in her urgency to shed him of his suit coat and tie, watching with satisfaction as they slide down his form to the floor.

Before long, Lizzie finds herself straddling him on the soft sheets of her bed kissing him. She feels the urgency on his lips, feels the warmth building between them stoked higher from the long separation.

When he slides his hands up her thighs and under the hem of her dress, she feels him hesitate, his lips paused against her own. A wretched-out moan leaves his lips as his searching hands find only the smooth warmth of her bare skin. 

She pulls back slightly to grin down at him. “I thought any sort of undergarments would just...get in the way.”

His eyes are lidded in lust as he looks up at her and he answers by surging up to kiss her again, his mouth desperate and his fingers pressing into the soft skin of her rear, rocking her down against his hips. She can feel him through his pants, his body responding to the press of her breasts against his chest, her fingers raking down his sides and her bruising kisses. She rolls her hips down in kind and Darcy groans in a way she has never heard before, sending a thrill through her.

Breathless, Lizzie finally breaks apart, sitting back to raise herself up onto her knees so she can lift the dress over her head to be deposited onto the floor.

As she strips herself bare, she feels Darcy’s arms slide from her rear to hook under her thighs, urging her forward with a gentle but obvious pressure. Lizzie freezes, peering down at him in slight confusion. When she doesn't respond, Darcy curls up from the bed momentarily to take hold of her ass and hips, dragging her up his broad frame until her knees bracket his shoulders and his lips press against her stomach, his tongue darting out to foreshadow his intention. She gasps, surprised at his sudden forwardness and feeling the unwelcome sense of panic begin to well up inside of her at the thought of such vulnerability.

Darcy senses her hesitancy and lays his head back, meeting her eyes with a soft smile. Lifting herself up onto her knees, Lizzie pulls away to hover over his face, uncertain.

“I don’t...I haven’t-” she starts.

“It’s ok,” his voice is a low whisper. “We won’t do anything you don’t want to. It’s up to you, you’re in control.”

He turns his head to press a kiss to her knee and then lays his head back onto her bed. His hands rest on her hips, his thumbs stroking idle circles. He doesn't try to force her back down, he doesn't push her off. He’s waiting for her. Waiting to see what she desires. What she wants. Lizzie holds the power.

The thought makes her nerves settle some, and Lizzie slowly, slowly lowers herself.

“Okay,” she breathes out, granting him permission.

Darcy nods slightly before he turns his head. He plants warm, soft kisses to the inside of her thighs where his mouth can reach, his hands sliding up and down her hips, caressing her skin with a gentle touch. His eyes stay locked on hers, waiting for her instructions, to tell him to stop. 

As his kisses travel upwards, his tongue dragging a glistening pattern against her skin, Lizzie realizes that her hands were tucked against her chest in a protective gesture. At his slow pace, she attempts to release the tension from her body and allows herself to slide her hands against her breasts and stomach, relaxing against the feeling of her own smooth skin and the feel of Darcy’s warm breath between her thighs.

When Darcy’s mouth reaches the sensitive skin where her thighs meet her lips, he pauses again, searching Lizzie’s face. She takes a deep breath and presses her hips forward slightly, bidding him to continue. 

Darcy drops his gaze, focusing on the task before him. His tongue gently meets her lips, sliding slow and hot from the top of where her lips part, down over her clit.

“Oh,” she gasps in pleasant surprise.

Darcy laughs, warm breath ghosting over her lips before his tongue passes over her again, making her moan, her fingers convulsing in pleasure against her breast and her stomach.

“More,” she commands, her hips canting down in an attempt to meet his mouth again. 

Darcy obeys, his tongue continuing to slide against her velvety skin. His large, warm hands leave her hips and move to capture her wrists, tugging her hands away from her skin and guiding them down to his own head.

Lizzie takes the hint and slides her fingers into his dark hair, grabbing onto soft handfuls. Experimentally, she tugs up on his locks as she rocks down again, pulling his face closer to her. The force of it rips a moan from Darcy, and with the wet of his mouth pressed against her, Lizzie feels it vibrate deliciously through her.

A heat blooms under her skin and his hands on her, hot and firm, slide up her body, caressing her breasts, her hips, her ass. Lizzie's fingers tug at his hair again and he closes his eyes from the pleasure of it. She is pleased to see how much Darcy wants her; though, it also drives home just how much she wants this as well. 

More deliberately, she rocks her body up against his face again, spreading her legs out wider. His mouth is open to her and she moves his head and her hips so that she feels the warmth of him slide along her lips and follow the length of one labia before moving to the other. Lizzie moans at the sight of him below her, revels in the new sensations she’s experiencing. She feels his tongue slide along her entrance and she realizes that she needs more, needs to feel him inside.

She pulls down on his hair, forcing his head back slightly and tilts her hips up for leverage as his tongue slides in all the way. 

“Yes,” she whispers. “Just like that.”

His tongue moves in and out of her body at the same pace that she rolls her hips down, slow and determined, his mouth vibrating murmurs that serve to drive her higher. She continues on like that for some time, swiveling and rolling her hips experimentally, finding which angles and what speed makes her gasp for breath, lost in the feel of his mouth pressed against her cunt.

Roughly, Lizzie yanks Darcy’s head back, guiding his mouth to her swollen clitoris. His eyes are alight with intensity, and she feels liquid heat of lust turn in her belly. He wastes no time closing his mouth around it, massaging his tongue in deliberate circles. His lips and tongue work to deliver delicious pressure, hot and wet. Lizzie cries out, bucking against his mouth. “Harder,” she whines, and he obeys. 

Her hips thrust down, hands tangled in Darcy’s hair, intent on keeping him in place as she rides his tongue with abandon. Darcy takes no issue with this and continues to suck and lick, working Lizzie's clit and moaning nearly as loudly as she is as she continues to rock forward against his face. A shiver rocks through Lizzie's entire body as she reaches her climax, her hips stuttering and bucking, uncoordinated at the blinding pleasure. 

Lizzie’s grip on Darcy's hair pulls taut, keeping him as close as possible as she grinds the last of her orgasm out against his wanting mouth. Incoherent moans dripping from her mouth, she holds him there until it’s all too much to bear, and she pushes his head back down into the mattress, away from her over-sensitive skin and rolls off of his face to collapse next to him.

Chest heaving, her body hums in pleasure. When she catches her breath and offers to help Darcy finish, the embarrassed blush that accompanies his statement informing her that her assistance won’t be necessary makes Lizzie’s gut twist with satisfaction.

Lizzie knows what she wants, knows what she likes. 

Lizzie likes to be in control. Lizzie doesn't mind not always being right.


End file.
